To Love and To Cherish
by Carolina Nadeau
Summary: My fluffy little take on Harold and Marian's first few hours as husband and wife.


_Author's Note: So, I wrote this largely as a challenge to myself, to see if I could do it, and I thought that there was no way that I could possibly bring myself to post it... but, well, I realized that I had worked too hard on it *not* to, and what good is a story if nobody can read it anyway? So, here it is, an M-rated Music Man fic by little ol' me. Here's hoping that it is as tasteful, romantic and non-explicit as I strove to have it be, and also that my, um, total lack of personal experience with... the obvious... does not come across too glaringly. Ahem. Thanks for reading, and reviews are appreciated as always!_

xxx

On a day that was supposedly set aside to celebrate their love, the new Mrs. Harold Hill was currently finding it quite difficult to steal a single moment with her new husband at their wedding reception. While they had sat together all through dinner and had already spent an extensive amount of time dancing together, the minute that Harold's best man Marcellus Washburn had pulled him aside for a chat, the ladies of River City's Events Committee had descended upon Marian like a swarm.

While Marian was glad for the friendship of the ladies – and she certainly preferred it to their condemnation! – they were undeniably an overwhelming force when gathered all together. They all talked at once, bubbling over with congratulations and compliments on the ceremony, her appearance and the food, enough to make Marian's head spin. Once or twice one of the less tactful ladies had dropped what seemed to be a vague joke at her expense on the subject of the honeymoon, making her wish she could sink into the floor and disappear. However, she was determined not to let anything trouble her on her wedding day, so she endured all their meddling with a smile.

It wasn't hard to do, after all – all she needed to do was look across the room to where Harold was standing, and she couldn't keep the foolish grin off her face. _My husband_, she reminded herself with beatific excitement, and it was all she could do not to run across the room into his arms.

But it wasn't just her sense of propriety that stopped her from doing so as much as it was the bizarre social engagement into which the ladies had managed to turn this wedding reception. After the committee members were done expressing their approval, they promptly turned the conversation to an assessment of their own contributions to the event, and how they might manage to improve on their work next month for Miss Ethel's wedding to Marcellus. It got to the point where Marian was genuinely surprised when Mrs. Shinn did not ask her to take down minutes, as she normally did at these meetings.

While she made sure that she was nothing but polite to the ladies, Marian's eyes darted desperately around the room, wondering who she could silently convince to be the instrument of her salvation. Her mother? No, she was thoroughly preoccupied by the charming sight of Winthrop and Amaryllis dancing together and would certainly not notice Marian's attempts to get her attention. It would have to be Harold, then – he always knew what to do, didn't he? Marian turned her attention back to the man she loved and counted on him to turn his head soon – for she highly doubted that he could keep from looking at her for too long, either.

When Harold caught her staring at him, he returned her loving, overjoyed gaze – and, after a brief word to Marcellus, exited from the large room out into the hallway. Marian was momentarily baffled, but then she nearly laughed aloud as she realized his intention. In his typical mischievous fashion, he was providing her with an escape.

Politely excusing herself, hoping that her status as the bride put her above suspicion for the time being, Marian walked at a measured pace toward the large double doors, careful not to look as if she was doing anything more interesting than heading for the washroom to fix her hair.

And there in the hallway, just as she had predicted, stood Harold, leaning against the wall and looking devastatingly handsome. Grinning, he wrapped his arms around her waist and dipped her into a quick kiss before standing her back up next to him. "It appeared that my fair maiden was in need of rescuing, so I felt it was my duty to play the hero," he teased.

"Goodness, I missed you terribly!" Marian laughed, placing a hand on his arm. "Even on my own wedding day, I can't seem to get away from the ladies and their social obligations."

"Well, after this, they should let up on you a little bit," Harold reasoned. "I don't think they'd put too much pressure on a newly married woman with a new home to get used to – they all know what that's like, except Ethel."

"Oh, I just hope they let up on me for the rest of the evening – or at least that they don't insist on keeping me separated from you any longer!"

"Well, even if they try, what can they really do?" he whispered in her ear. "It won't be long now before there won't be a person in the world who can keep me away from you."

His words sent a thrill of nervous excitement down her spine, and she unconsciously gripped the fabric of her ivory gown in tight little fists.. As any new bride would, Marian certainly had her reservations and worries about what would they would be expected to do together once they finally achieved that blessed solitude, but it was a step that she felt beyond ready to take, and all the endless frivolities of the celebration only made her more impatient for that moment. She eyed the clock contemptuously – they were leaving town on the five-thirty train, and yet somehow, it was barely past four, the clear December sunlight just beginning to show the red-gold touch of evening. For the first time, the librarian reflected, she could truly understand the words of that foolish, doomed girl, poor Juliet, who yearned desperately for a nightfall that was painfully slow in arriving.

_O, I have bought the mansion of a love, but not possessed it, and though I am sold, not yet enjoyed!_

Although she knew that both of them had often been frustrated by how very long they had been required to wait for one another, the absurdity of it all was suddenly apparent to Marian. It had been only five months... they had first laid eyes on each other the night before the Fourth of July, and yet it seemed that it was only by some miracle that they had made it to the altar by the first week of December without falling into bed together. A great many courtships and engagements lasted for years, and Marian felt terribly fortunate that circumstance had permitted she and Harold to wed so quickly – neither one of them would have been strong enough to wait much longer. Right now, even those few hours that remained seemed downright cruel. Even after the reception ended, there would still be a long train ride to Des Moines standing between them and their marriage bed, and at present that sounded simply unbearable.

Marian could hear a love ballad starting up in the next room, the perfect song for them to dance to while wrapped in one another's embrace, and she took Harold's hand to lead him back to the door. Shy but earnest, the librarian gazed up at her husband. "We should go back in there now, before anyone starts to wonder where we are. But I want you to know... I'll still be counting the minutes," she confessed softly.

Harold smiled at her and stole a brief kiss to her dimpled cheek, delighting in the way she blushed. "Mrs. Hill, you have my solemn promise that as soon as I get you alone, I'm taking you into my arms and never letting you go."

xxx

It was dark and snow was falling outside by the time that the newlyweds arrived in Des Moines; as they emerged from the train station into the cold night air, Marian took a long, invigorating breath to clear her head.

"Tonight reminds me of the night you proposed to me," she told him, her voice brimming with happiness.

Harold took her right hand in his own and held it up to the light of the nearby streetlamps, watching the diamond ring and golden band glisten together. The light caught his own wedding band as well, and Marian had a fleeting thought that the sight might make a lovely picture.

"Tonight's even better," Harold whispered, lightly tracing her ring finger before drawing her hand to his lips.

Blissful, Marian nestled close against Harold as they set off down the street, not feeling the least bit worried about the impropriety of it. After all, they were husband and wife – who in heaven or earth could say it was wrong? She knew she must have looked foolish, mooning the way she was over him, but it wasn't as if Harold wasn't doing the same thing – so at least they would appear cloyingly infatuated _together_.

After a few minutes of carrying her heavy suitcase, however, the librarian realized that she didn't actually know where they were headed. "Harold, this hotel... is it far?" she asked, a hint of doubt in her voice.

Distractedly, the music professor scanned their surroundings, tracing an inscrutable pattern in the air with his index finger. "Shouldn't be..." he murmured under his breath. "Four blocks from... past the corner of... aha! There!"

Harold had taken a trip to Des Moines in early October in order to procure musical supplies for the Music Emporium, so he had a basic familiarity with the city that Marian lacked. She allowed him to lead her while she gazed wide-eyed at the buildings that were taller than any she'd seen in person.

Another minute or so of walking brought them to their intended destination. Harold led her into the lobby of a stately building that smelled of clean wood and lush fabric; the room was high-ceilinged and breathtaking, and Marian didn't try to hide her amazement.

"I must seem so provincial to you," she laughed, "but I've never been in a hotel before. I'm sure you've seen much finer buildings than even this – Des Moines is hardly the capital of the world..."

Harold shook his head vehemently as they walked toward the front desk. "Don't belittle yourself, darling. Just because you haven't been places, doesn't make you provincial in the least. After all, you've read just about every book worth reading, you can recite volumes of poetry from memory, and you're more musically talented than I could ever hope to be. You, Marian Paroo – uh, Hill – are a one-woman compendium of high culture."

Marian rolled her eyes at him good-naturedly, but she didn't deny it. Both of the Hills were cultured in their own way, and the librarian figured that was one of the things that made them work so well together, the reason why they could sit and talk for hours and never run out of things to say. Just as she knew that she never would have fallen for Harold Hill if he had been a typical ill-mannered traveling salesman with no regard for the intellectual, she knew that he in turn would not have been so captivated by her if he'd thought her the simple, countrified girl that she felt like in Des Moines.

As Harold picked up their key at the front desk, informing the reedy, mustached clerk that he had reserved a room for "Mr. and Mrs. Harold Hill", Marian found herself suddenly fighting back a giggle. Her husband turned his head to her, silently raising his eyebrows in confusion – which only brought her closer to an undignified outburst of laughter.

Thankfully, she managed to suppress her childish mirth long enough to avoid embarrassing herself. As soon as they had created a reasonable distance between themselves and the desk, though, Harold took her by the arm, his brown eyes dancing with mischief.

"Now, Madam Librarian, you'd better let me in on the joke," he admonished with a teasing waggle of his finger.

"Oh, it's not a joke, exactly," she replied with a coy little smile. "It just occurred to me – well, I'm a bit surprised that you wouldn't insist that they called us _Professor _and Mrs. Harold Hill." Saying it out loud was enough to make her laugh all over again, especially when she witnessed the defiant expression that Harold acquired in response.

"You're absolutely right," he intoned with mock solemnity. "It is of vital importance to be addressed by one's proper title, isn't it, _Mrs. Hill_?"

At that, Marian blushed pleasantly, her romantic sentiments instantly returning. "I do like that one," she told him. "Especially when you say it."

Harold's eyes flashed with emotion, and the librarian was fairly certain that he would have taken her into his arms right then if they had not still been in public. Instead, he simply took out the little brass key that promised so much, held it up in the same hand that was adorned with his wedding ring, and asked his bride:

"Shall we?"

xxx

"Here we are!" Harold declared with a sweeping gesture of his arm as they stepped into the hotel room. "Our home away from home!"

"Oh, it's lovely," Marian said with a delighted smile. The room was fancy, yet domestic, decorated in warm autumnal tones, and even with her boots still on she could feel the plushness of the ochre carpet under her feet. Her eyes were drawn immediately to what seemed to be the centerpiece of the room, however – an enormous, comfortable-looking bed draped in a burgundy-and-gold comforter. That one sight was all it took to set her off-balance. She discreetly looked away, blushing furiously, and darted across the room to deposit her valise on a low table. Behind her, she heard the click of the key in the lock confirm that they were, at last, alone, without any possibility of interruption, and the reality of it flooded her with raw anxiety that she had been so certain that she had already overcome.

Opening the suitcase, Marian reached inside to find what she had placed on top – a nightgown that she had purchased in secret especially for this night, a lacy little slip of lingerie that she had hoped would give her the confidence of a wife. Clutching it to her chest, she turned to face Harold. "I'm going to go into the washroom – to, to change," she stuttered. She felt like kicking herself for appearing so meek – this wasn't the way that she had wanted Harold to see her tonight!

Harold smiled kindly at her as he sat down to rifle through his own luggage. "Take all the time you need, Madam Librarian. I won't be going anywhere."

Nodding, Marian disappeared into the adjacent room, hoping that by the time she emerged she would feel as ready as she knew herself to be.

xxx

When she was alone, Marian had the time to take a few deep breaths and clear her mind. Why on earth was she nervous now? She knew that she wanted this – that she wanted it a lot, actually. And she could trust that Harold would be gentle, would be loving, would be patient – he always was. It was just the formality of it all that bothered her, she decided at last. She had been ready to fall into his arms at just about any time over the past five months, but now that it could finally happen, the fulfillment seemed so pragmatic and unromantic. Virginal as she may have been, Marian didn't want to simply submit to him, bashful and trembling; she had dreamed of their wedding night as being driven by that glorious, mutual passion between them, and she wasn't about to let fear of the unknown make her forget how much she loved and desired Harold.

Surely Harold was enough of a gentleman that he would not want to urge her directly into bed without any prelude. He was too passionate of a man, and too much in love with her, to do this tremendous thing with her without ensuring that they both enjoyed it thoroughly. Once he just kissed her again, Marian felt certain that nature would take its course between them and her worries would disappear. Washing her face, unpinning her hair, and removing her boots, stockings, navy-blue traveling suit, and constricting corset gave her plenty of time to reflect on all the heated dreams and imaginings she had ever had about this night, and her enthusiasm soon started to return.

As she slipped into the sleek ivory nightgown that she had never worn before, the librarian eyed herself critically in the mirror. Her golden hair loose around her shoulders in shining curls, the silk of the gown clinging to her every curve, her bare arms and half-bare legs on display – she looked, Marian realized, like a seductress. It was a ridiculous thought, as she hadn't the faintest idea how to seduce a man, and was in fact banking on the probability that Harold's seduction of _her _would be sufficient to make up for her ignorance. Still, she was pleased with her appearance, knowing that seeing her like this would drive Harold wild. Maybe she had some seductive tendencies after all...

Slipping out of the washroom nearly on tiptoe, Marian surveyed the room, at once both hoping that Harold would see her and that he would not. With a certain feminine pride, Marian was rather excited to see how Harold would react to her state of undress, yet she was still a little afraid of displaying so much of her body to a man.

It didn't take long for their eyes to meet – Harold, who had been in the process of placing his suit coat in his suitcase, gazed at her with frank awe, looking even more spellbound than he had when he had first seen her in her wedding dress that afternoon. Marian smiled a little as she considered Harold – while he had not made so drastic a change as she had, he had already removed his tie and coat, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, the sleeves rolled up a little. After a minute or so had passed, though, all of Harold's staring made her uncomfortable. Was he going to say or do anything, or had she miscalculated what was going to happen here?

The hotel room was not small, but there was nowhere to run or hide – not that Marian harbored any desire to do so, but she felt so terribly awkward simply waiting for him to initiate... _something. _Desperate to appear confident, Marian walked deliberately around the room, taking in the decor with far more interest than she felt.

"You selected a wonderful hotel for us, darling," she remarked, keeping her tone light and nonchalant. "This room must have cost you a fortune."

Harold nodded as he sat down to remove his shoes and socks. "Well, I figure I might as well use up as much of my ill-gotten money as possible on spoiling my wife... just because I'm living honest now, doesn't mean that money doesn't have to go somewhere. Wait until you see what I've done with our house!"

"Oh, I can't wait," she responded with a smile, although for the moment she felt that she could wait a good while indeed before dealing with such mundane matters.

As she strolled over to the heavy mahogany table, rearranging the banal items there with feigned purpose – a fountain pen, a pad of paper, a pamphlet on the hotel's amenities – she could feel the heat of his gaze on her even when she was facing away from him.

Still, Harold made no move whatsoever to initiate the main event of their wedding night. After the way he had treated her not just all day but for the past months, mercilessly teasing her and stirring her desire, Marian was taken aback by his reserve – _he _couldn't possibly have been nervous, could he? No, he must have thought that she was more afraid than she was, based on her moment of panic a few minutes before, and was waiting for her permission. Despite all her blushing and all the natural shyness of a new bride, Marian was rather disappointed that Harold was keeping such a distance from her – to think that only a minute before she had been concerned that he might ravish her too hastily!

She suspected that she knew how to let him know just what she wanted without being too forward – she just had to try her hand at seduction, as she had been worried that she might have to do. The more she thought about it, Marian realized that she probably did have the capability. After all, hadn't she once managed to trick the odious Charlie Cowell into believing that she was willing to offer her body to him? Compared to that, it should have been nothing at all to convince her dear, loving husband that she was ready to consummate their marriage.

Turning around, she leaned back against the desk a little, shamelessly enjoying the way the nightgown made her look and the sudden feeling of power she felt when she caught her music professor gawking at her – taking a more active role in the proceedings was in fact turning out to be an excellent remedy for wedding-night anxiety. Marian drummed her fingers against the table in a vague rhythm, trying to think of what she could say to put the right idea in his head. Maybe it wouldn't be all that different from the bantering that they engaged in so often. Miming complete innocence, she cocked her head at him, biting her lip. "Hmm... It's far too early to go to sleep, but we can't very well go out dressed like this either. What would you have us do?"

Her words seemed to have served their intended purpose. Rising from the chair at once, Harold strode toward her with ardent intensity in his gaze, and the librarian boldly stepped forward to meet him in the middle of the room. Marian had never stood before Harold without shoes before, and it made her feel very small indeed. Her eyes were drawn to the open collar of his shirt and the dark hair that she could glimpse beyond – it was the most of him that she had ever seen, and yet in a few minutes she was going to see _all _of him. The scent of his skin and clothes and cologne was all around her, and she felt suddenly overwhelmed by his nearness.

"I'm not sure, Mrs. Hill," he murmured low, cupping her face in his hands and letting the tips of his fingers tangle in her errant curls. "I was thinking that as long as we're in for the night, we might as well explore all that this room has to offer."

"Is – is that so?" She was mesmerized as she felt his hands slide down her neck, tease the skin of her nearly-bare shoulders, painstakingly trace her low neckline. "And what would that be?"

"For one thing, you." Holding her tightly against him, he stroked her hair with one hand while slipping the thin lacy strap of the nightgown from her shoulder. "I'd like very much to explore _you_."

"_Oh_," Marian exclaimed, a little gasp of desire that was something near to a moan. The parting of her lips gave Harold the opportunity he had been waiting for, and he was quick to claim those lips for his own, for the first time kissing her without the slightest hint of holding anything back. Marian kissed him back fervently and writhed against him, already flushed with longing, desperate for the closer contact that she had craved for so long.

And he gave it to her eagerly, his hands finding her breasts and exploring them as thoroughly as he had promised. At first he merely teased her through her nightgown, but soon enough he was unable to resist slipping the other strap down her shoulder and sliding his hands under the silken fabric. The touch of Harold's hand upon her bare breast was enough to make Marian whimper and sigh already, but when he abandoned the task of applying a love-bite to her neck in favor of kissing his way down until he could take her nipple in his mouth, she involuntarily cried out his name and tangled her fingers in his thick hair, holding him close against her chest. She would have been embarrassed at her vocal display of passion, but Harold made it very clear to her that he was enjoying it, which only served to further fuel her arousal.

Somehow, in the course of all this his hands had moved to fondle the curve of her backside, and before long they took hold of the hem of her nightgown, tugging it down until it pooled at her feet. Marian shivered as the cool air hit her back, raising goosebumps, and she deemed that it was rather unfair that she should be so exposed while Harold was almost fully clothed. She slid her hands from his hair to reach down below his neck, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, but to her dismay their current position made this extremely difficult.

Harold noticed, and he stopped in his attentions to gaze up at her. The startlingly erotic sight of her husband looking up at her from between her breasts, his eyes wild with desire, nearly made her knees give out on her.

"Why, Madam Librarian," he gasped, "It wasn't my intention to deny you of the opportunity to do your own exploring." Rising to his full height once again, he planted a breathless kiss on her lips, pushing his body against her until they were stumbling back in the direction of the bed.

With shaking, awkward hands, Marian undid the remaining buttons on his dress shirt until she could pull it off him. Her eyes grew wide at the sight that was revealed to her, and she couldn't resist running her hands over his chest and abdomen, delighting in the smoothness of his tan skin and the firmness of his muscles. With a purpose of which she wasn't quite certain, she shyly leaned in to place a few gentle kisses upon his chest. Marian had leaned her head on his chest many times when they were fully clothed, but to be so close to his skin, to some indefinable essence of _him_, was one of the most erotic things she could have imagined. She was beginning to comprehend that her desire for him was simply endless, and if there were a million different ways to know him, to love him, to be with him, she wanted eventually to learn them all.

Groaning, Harold buried his face in her neck and rocked his hips against hers, his unmistakable intention to let her know precisely what he was so desperate to do to her. "Oh, darling, I think it would be a shame to let that beautiful bed go to waste."

"Then we'd better not," breathed Marian, allowing him to sweep her into his arms and carry her across the room, lavishing her with kisses all the while. She clung to her husband with her arms wound about his shoulders, thrilled by the new intimacy of all their bare skin pressing together.

Placing her atop the luxurious comforter, Harold took a moment to make sure that her head was settled on the pillow before climbing up next to her.

"Comfortable?" he asked, his usual charming grin looking outright hungry given their current situation.

"Yes, it's – it's wonderful," she responded – and though the bed was indeed very pleasing, it was the presence of a half-naked Harold leaning over her that was foremost in her thoughts at that moment.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Marian pulled Harold close to her body, breathing in the scent of him, intoxicated by his masculinity. His features softened and his salesman's smile turned to something more gentle as he gazed down at her. Suddenly it seemed that the mood between them had become much more serious – the removal of their lower clothing was all that remained before they were entirely naked together. As they entwined their bodies in another heated embrace, Harold slipped his hands down to Marian's hips and hooked his fingers inside the waistband of her silken drawers.

Carefully, he slid them down her legs and dropped them to the floor beside the bed before leaning up on his side so he could take in the sight of her. Laying naked on the bed, one leg bent at the knee and one arm flung at an angle above her head, blonde hair falling over the red pillow, Marian felt as though she were posing for a painting – or perhaps just a lewd photograph. Her first shy instinct was to cover herself, but the reverence on her husband's face captivated her and reminded her that she truly wanted him to see her, wanted to share her body with him in every way.

"You're perfect, Marian," he whispered, looking as if he couldn't believe his eyes. His breathing was unsteady as the intimate confessions fell from his lips. "So many nights I spent dreaming of you like this – I thought I knew how beautiful you'd be – but I couldn't have fathomed what it would be like to really see you. You're the only woman in the world I want – the only woman I will ever want."

Marian was startled by the stark artlessness of his words – in that moment, she knew he wasn't selling anything nor trying to seduce her, the wavering of his voice revealing that he had not planned those words in advance. As nerve wracking as it was to know that she lay entirely bare before him, his honest, worshipful admiration made her glow with gratitude and affection for him, and she beamed, her heart full. She wished that she could respond with equally heartfelt words, but she felt too uncertain to be verbose.

Harold _did _look lovely, his firm chest illuminated in the glow of the lamps and his formerly well-coiffed hair now in tantalizing disarray due to her eager hands. Still, she found it a little unnerving that she should be naked while he was not.

"Um, are _you _going to..." She gestured vaguely to the area of his trousers, unsure of what to say.

Looking surprised and pleased by her boldness, Harold rapidly fell back into his previous easy confidence. "Yes, of course, darling." He backed up further until he could stand up beside the bed, his hands fumbling desperately with his belt buckle.

At that, Marian quickly looked away, blushing bright red. As much as she had dreamed of seeing all of Harold, the reality of it was enough to spark her shy nervousness all over again. But when he climbed into bed with her again, her sheer desire for him overcame her fear and before she could change her mind, she was gazing upon his naked body.

Of course she knew vaguely what to expect from the male form, books on anatomy and Classical and Renaissance art kept no secrets about such things, but his aroused state – aroused by _her_, she reminded herself with a sort of terrified glee – was unlike anything that she had been able to imagine. Marian knew that she should keep her eyes on his face, and she attempted valiantly to do so, but her stubborn curiosity kept a hold on her, and she couldn't keep her gaze from flicking below his waist several times, trying to come to terms with this strange, secret part of him that her body would be somehow expected to accommodate.

To her mingled embarrassment and relief, Harold seemed to notice her apprehension, and he did his best to calm her, stroking her hair and gazing into her eyes until her breathing grew slower and deeper.

"It's only me, Marian. Still just us, you and me."

The librarian nodded wordlessly and allowed him to kiss her, and before long his kisses were melting her into a dreamy haze again, his gentle caresses upon her breasts making her squirm with delight. And then, then, he allowed his hands to slip lower, gently teasing at the soft skin of her thighs until she parted them out of sheer instinct and need, his fingers getting closer and closer – and then they found that place that had ached so badly to be touched, dipping in to find where she was wet with arousal, sliding up, up, to caress her in ways that she could never have dreamed could feel so good – it seemed impossible that these sorts of sensations could have lain dormant in her body for so long, that all it took was the brush of fingers over that one place to light her senses on fire.

As he pleasured her, Harold whispered the most scandalous things in her ear, things that would have shocked her at any other time – smoldering, impassioned words of what they had done and what they were doing and what they were about to do – the words swirled around inside her along with the electric sensations that his fingers were creating, and she panted and whimpered, near to crying with ecstasy. Yet she was not so far gone that all thought was lost to her, and as he whispered searing words about how very aroused he was by her, how she made him so hard that he ached, Marian decided that she did not intend to be selfish, and that she would very much like to contribute to his pleasure as well.

Her hands froze in place as she considered this, curling in the soft hair of his chest. Her instinct was to touch him, as he had touched her, not only to see how he would react but also to learn his body in the way that he was already learning hers. But could she do it, could she really bring herself to touch that strange and foreign body part that she barely felt brave enough to look at? Remembering the way that her body had nearly melted with arousal when she had merely touched his chest and provoked a groan, Marian bravely determined that the answer was yes. So, while Harold was thoroughly occupied in exploring and caressing her, Marian allowed her hands to trail down his chest, down his stomach, lower...

Caught off guard, Harold ceased the motions of his fingers and howled out her name, and while Marian enjoyed the feeling of having such power over him, she also felt rather embarrassed that her hesitant and inexperienced touch had suddenly made her the center of attention.

"I just wanted to – to touch you," she stammered apologetically, pulling her hand back. "I didn't mean – you know I don't know what to do –"

"No, don't apologize – I just didn't expect – keep doing that," Harold groaned in response. Resuming his delightful teasing of her with one hand, he lowered the other to where hers rested, guiding her in how to touch and stroke him until she felt confident enough to do it herself, though not to look at what she was doing. For a maid on her wedding night, Marian was quite certain that she had been far, far too bold, but it was worth it to see him moaning and gasping in pleasure just as she was – her eagerness not only to experience what he could give her, but to watch him find ecstasy from her own body was increasing her arousal to a point that was almost unbearable.

After a time she became aware that she was repeatedly whispering the word "please," though she was not even conscious of what she was pleading with him to do. Marian was so desperate in her need that when Harold removed his hand from between her thighs and pulled her hand away from his erection, she whimpered softly in frustrated disappointment – a sound which brought a self-satisfied smile to Harold's handsome face. But seconds later, she understood why he had done it when he settled himself between her legs and she felt something that was most certainly not his finger pressing against her entrance.

Leaning his head down to kiss her breasts and her cheeks and finally her lips, Harold slowly, gently pressed his hips forward into hers, and almost before she realized it, their bodies were joined in the most intimate way and somehow she was staring wide-eyed up at him and feeling him inside her at the same time.

She had expected pain, and a good deal of her nervousness over the consummation of their marriage had stemmed from this inevitability. But she had been so lost in the urgency of her own desire that she had forgotten to worry about that, and now the pain took her by surprise, rudely jolting her out of her blissful reverie. Although she didn't want to alarm her husband, knowing that such unpleasantness was natural and unavoidable, she couldn't help it when a soft whimper escaped her, every muscle in her body turning rigid in her discomfort and her fingernails sinking into his shoulders.

Stroking her hair and holding her close, Harold whispered words of apology and adoration into her ear, telling her that she was so beautiful, that he'd never hurt her on purpose, that being inside her was indescribable... that before long it would feel so good that she would forget that it had ever hurt. Her breathing slowing to a more regular pace and her desire rapidly reigniting as the pain dulled, Marian relaxed in his arms – and it seemed that the more she relaxed, the less and less it hurt her until she at last nodded for him to continue.

Harold hadn't been exaggerating – as he moved in and out of her, slowly and hesitantly at first but changing to a more steady pace as he noted her approving sighs, the soreness that remained was completely insignificant in contrast to the startling shocks of pleasure that coursed through her. Soon she was moving beneath him as well, unable to resist the primal urge to have him deeper within her, to feel him against all the mysterious sensitive places that she had never known she had until now. At first she tried to hold back the shy little moans that formed in her throat, afraid that she might come across as wanton, but Harold was clearly making no attempt to restrain himself in such a way, and before long she gave up trying and allowed her voice to mingle with his.

It astonished her the way that their mutual desire fed the heat between them – it wasn't just what he was doing to her body, but every moan, every breath, every expression of Harold's pleasure that brought her closer to her own ecstasy. He was watching her face the whole time, entranced, adoring, and Marian watched him too whenever she could stand to keep her eyes open. The incredible physical sensation in combination with the look on Harold's face as he made love to her was almost too much to bear. Not thinking at all anymore, she acted on pure instinct, rocking her hips against Harold's, trailing her hands down his back and her feet down his legs, desperate for him to push her further, to give her something that she could not name.

When her husband reached down to caress her most sensitive areas with his deft fingers, she was undone – she could feel her pleasure building to a point where she was certain that she could not stand it, she could not contain it, something would have to give. Suddenly and unexpectedly, as if some intangible threshold had been crossed, Marian felt her body overcome by this ecstatic sensation until she lost even the power to control her own movements, and she involuntarily arched against Harold, gasping out his name again and again until she could only fall limply against the pillow and try to catch her breath. As she lay in a euphoric daze, barely able to keep her eyes open, she watched in wonder as Harold at last surrendered his self-control, shuddering with intense pleasure and crying out her name before he collapsed atop her, panting heavily against her neck.

As they clung together in the low light, gasping and trying to recover their higher faculties, the implications of what they had done slowly dawned on Marian, and it scared her a little to think that things would never again be quite the same between them.

But when her husband finally pulled back to look at her, Marian was almost overwhelmed by the rush of love that she felt for him. He looked triumphant, yet somehow vulnerable in his exhaustion, a combination which she found indescribably endearing. Reaching up, she trailed her fingers through his rumpled curls and caressed his cheek, unable to find any word that could express the rapture that she was feeling in the moment.

"Oh, Marian," he whispered at last in an unsteady voice. "I love you so, so much."

"I love you, too," she sighed, and Harold leaned down to gently kiss her lips before carefully rolling onto his side and pulling her close, draping the blanket from the foot of the bed over their naked bodies. Marian nestled into him, her hand coming to rest on his chest, and with tender affection Harold covered it with his own. It gave her great joy to know that even after they had crossed this monumental threshold, everything still made perfect sense between them – it was so natural, so right.

They lay quietly in that way for several minutes, too euphoric for words, and Marian wondered if they might be meant to go to sleep. The hour was still rather early, and despite the momentary daze that their lovemaking had left her in, she did not feel nearly ready to sleep for the night. She almost asked him, but she was unwilling to break the beautiful silence between them with such a prosaic question. Thankfully, it was her husband who spoke first.

Absentmindedly tracing her profile with his thumb, Harold murmured, "Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that with you?"

Marian giggled and kissed his cheek, feeling drunk with pleasure. "I think I do, Harold."

"It's better like this, though – that we love each other," he reflected as he gazed at her with intensely possessive affection. "I've never, _never _experienced anything close to what we just shared."

The implied reference to his past affairs might have stung her if she had not come off so very well in the comparison; instead, the sweet honesty of his admission warmed Marian's heart, and she felt compelled to make a confession of her own. "I really was so nervous about tonight, but that – that was perfect."

Harold looked more himself now, wearing his trademark thousand-watt grin. "Well, thank you very much, Madam Librarian!"

If she had been in a less blissful state, Marian might have been scandalized by his flagrant smugness. But now, she could only find it charming.

"Oh, Harold," she said, laughing lightly. "How very like you to say something like that."

"Is it very like me to say that I thought it was absolutely perfect as well, and that I'm so, so very happy that you're my wife?"

"A little," she admitted. "But say it anyway."

"I am," he assured her before leaning in to capture her lips with his own.

xxx

Even after they had washed and dressed for bed and attempted to make themselves look somewhat presentable, Harold and Marian ended up entwined together on the bed again almost immediately, kissing and caressing between soft, dreamy conversations about nothing in particular. She was sure that her blushing shyness would return in the light of day, but for now she didn't feel the least bit self-conscious about what they had experienced together. It was incredible how much closer and more at ease Marian felt with her husband after they had consummated their marriage; she fancied that she could lay with him like this forever.

"I can hardly believe that last night, I went to sleep in my own bed like every other night in my life, and now, tonight, we're together like this," Marian exclaimed effusively.

"I know. I can barely believe it myself," the music professor replied with a chuckle. "Even for all the times that we almost gave in and ended up like this in the past few months – there was still a part of me that felt like it would never really happen. Like it was too good to be true."

Marian playfully hooked one of his dark locks around her finger, watching it straighten and bounce back. "And now we can spend every night like this, whenever we want. I thought that maybe once we had – you know – that it would placate me somehow, that the wanting would be less intense after that. But, oh, that's not true at all! It's the opposite, isn't it?"

Harold smiled at her, pulling her even closer so she was curled up against him. "It most certainly is," he murmured, sounding like he was just as astonished as she was at this revelation. "That's what a honeymoon is for, I suppose – to give the happy couple time to make love to each other as much as they want, without work or anything else getting in the way!"

"But you are going to take me places, aren't you?" she asked teasingly. "That is, I assume that this bed is not the main attraction of this lovely city."

"I'm sure it's close to it," Harold laughed, winking. "At least, with you in it, it is. But of course I'm going to take you places, sweetheart! Otherwise I wouldn't have brought you out this far in the first place."

"I don't think it will be easy getting out of bed, though," she admitted with a blush. "It's a good thing that we don't have to tonight."

"We don't have to whenever we don't want to... and I don't just mean on our honeymoon." Eager to demonstrate, Harold gathered her to him for another long, indulgent session of petting and canoodling, Marian melting willingly into his embrace until the low-burning embers of her desire once again began to flare up into a roaring fire.

She was just starting to think that this resurgence of desire might pose a rather frustrating problem when Harold pressed his hips against hers, and she was shocked by what she felt against her. In the course of her extensive premarital research, the librarian had read an awful lot about how a man's climax would utterly deprive him of virility for a long time afterward; apparently, this was not always the case.

With a gasp, she parted her lips from his, staring at him in incredulity. "You can – again – already?" she stuttered, embarrassed at what she was saying yet too pleasantly surprised not to express it.

Grinning smugly, Harold rolled her over until she was beneath him and her hair fanned out over the pillow. "You thought I couldn't?"

"I don't know, I thought it might take _hours_, or, or maybe longer –"

"Maybe you underestimate how desirable you are, then," he murmured as he nibbled at her earlobe. "As if I'd be satisfied with only making love to you once tonight! But you – do you really want me again right now?"

Marian gave him an impish smile and tickled his leg with her foot. "Don't underestimate how desirable _you _are, Professor... it's not like you."

Then Harold was kissing her again, they were shedding the nightclothes that they had so meticulously dressed themselves in, and Marian's last thought before surrendering herself to passion was that being Harold Hill's wife was already turning out to be wonderful in so very many ways.


End file.
